


From Ocean Below to Morning Above

by hydrangeamaiden



Series: Hallownest Collection [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Gen, Major Character Undeath, Post-Canon, Self-Indulgent, Sibling Bonding, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 11:24:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20470241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrangeamaiden/pseuds/hydrangeamaiden
Summary: I am sick of all these siblings dying and making me sad, so I'm bringing them back to life with this extremely self-indulgent fic.





	From Ocean Below to Morning Above

**Author's Note:**

> 'Hydra, what about your Pure Vessel fic?' I need to alternate between different writing projects, so I don't get burnt out from writing the same thing all the time. I'll start the next chapter soon. Also, I did not forget the other siblings, so don't worry. They'll get their own drabbles eventually. Maybe after I finish that short story I'm writing for Hornet??

The Void was like being wrapped in a soft, warm blanket. The unblinking eyes of the Siblings glowed like lumaflies. Despite the dark, Ghost could see their outlines: the little one they saw in Greenpath, dashed through by their own nail; their Kin from the Ancient Basin, head no longer caved in. The Hollow Knight was a tower among the little shadows with eyes bright and alert. Someone had turned off the lighthouse at the ocean's shore, but no one would've been able to see the surface, anyway. Ghost wasn't even sure which way was up.

The Void was comforting. They had spent a long night swathed with lights of varying intensity, at the end of which they stared into the face of the Infection which they thought would burn them out. Their shell had torn asunder, unable to contain their sinuous, lengthened form. The tendrils swarming around them, coming from them, were not unlike some creatures they had seen during their travels, or perhaps roots…It didn't matter anymore. Their journey was over, and they were going home. Though they were all children of Wyrm and Root, the Void came before all of that. The darkness had come to rightfully claim them all, now that their purpose had been fulfilled. Or perhaps forfeited.

The Hollow Knight drifts towards them, seeking companionship. They wrap Ghost in their arms, and the two drift together towards nothing. Does the ocean have a bottom? They remember the shore being wider than anything they had ever seen. It hadn't captured their excitement the way Hallownest had; they had simply regarded it with familiarity and a sense of knowing. Being down this deep dulls their wandering thoughts.

Their mind drifts. A spot of red runs consistently through Ghost's memories—yes, Ghost's. Not just a ghost, but Ghost. The red-cloaked spider, standing tall as her height would allow, had taken one look at them and affixed them with a name. They weren't just another Sibling in the Void.

They somehow knew she was still in the Temple of the Black Egg. There's nowhere else she could've gone, and one of the last things they felt before the Void took them was the feel of her cloak. It felt a bit rough, like it needed washing. They had brushed against her shell, and felt lots of little scratches. She'd need to polish it. Her needle had been better taken care of.

_I'm worried about Hornet,_ they think.

_Me too,_ the Hollow Knight adds, picking up on Ghost's thoughts.

_Hornet? Hornet?_ Come the inquiries of several nearby Siblings.

_Sister. She is all alone._ Ghost thinks this with a pang of sadness. The Void squeezes them in a cool embrace, beckoning them down further. Many of their kin have already gone past the precipice of visibility, sinking gratefully into the dark. There is no longer any reason for them to exist; theirs was a short life of suffering and a cruel end. Ghost had been ready to join them, but suddenly found they could not. The Void would take care of them, but who would take care of Hornet? Granted, she was fully-grown and independent, but she was also alone. They had never known her to talk to anyone else.

This was only the surface of their ocean of thought. The Hollow Knight's is far deeper; they've had a long time to dig a trench of anxieties and ideas. Of all the siblings, they deserve rest the most, to once again become one with the Void. Yet they angle their head towards the surface, and float against the tide. Only a curious handful follow, but most keep drifting downwards. A few touch Ghost's and the Hollow Knight's arms in a kindly gesture of farewell.

The Hollow Knight and Ghost ascend at a minute pace, hand in hand. To be honest, Ghost had anticipated such an end for themselves, ever since they recalled their memories. They've explored every corner, gotten every charm, filled out their map and fought every adversary. The Infection hollowed out the old kingdom, and thus there is nothing left to protect it against. No sealed Vessel to usurp or free. They've done everything there was to be done, and now they're to return to the ocean that birthed them. In its unfathomable deepness, there must be new adventures awaiting them.

And yet, Ghost couldn't stop thinking about going back up. They're sure the Hollow Knight feels the same way.

_Lots of things up there,_ says Ghost. _Lots of good things.__ Come with me?_

_Yes__,_ says the Hollow Knight. _I want to see a shooting star._

–

Hornet had been adverse to going into the Black Egg Temple. In fact, it might have been the only place in Hallownest she actively did not want to enter. Even the most loathsome places in the fallen kingdom were tolerable, because she knew them well. The temple was not unknown to her, either, which is why she could say she feared it. If the festering Infection within didn't kill her, the Void certainly would. The little ghost, of course, walked right in. Were they fearless? It often seemed that way, but as their mien never changed, she could never say for sure. Already she knew they wouldn't usurp their sibling, thanks to her guidance (should she have been more hands-on?) and their strong personality (she should have gotten to know them a little better).

Hornet stood outside the entrance, needle gripped tight. When she heard an unearthly roar, her pessimism gave way to ugly fear. The seal was now broken. Whatever lay ahead, it would be the end of Hallownest's stasis. Perhaps an end to the kingdom itself. She hadn't dared face the entrance, but now she forced herself to look. Little Ghost was strong, but the Hollow Knight wouldn't give them the opportunity they needed.

She took a deep breath, brandished her weapon, and charged in.

There was a flash of light, and then cold darkness. Hornet had floated for an eternity and a second, unable to see even an inch ahead. Her needle—where was it? She groped blindly in the darkness, and then passed out.

That's the last thing Hornet remembers before waking up in the empty temple.

Ghost's mask is split evenly down the middle. The Hollow Knight's is in worse condition; she thinks at first that there's nothing left of it, until she notices its fragments strewn across the floor. The expulsion of the Infection had exploded it.

She takes each half of Ghost's mask in her hands, dismayed to find a chunk missing in the forehead. She sets it on the steps just outside the temple, and goes back in to retrieve her other sibling's head—no, mask. Not a head. Don't think about it as a head. It takes forever to make sure she hasn't missed any pieces. It's inconvenient work, but she hates the idea of just leaving them in that wretched prison.

There's no trace of the Infection, nor the Void. Outside the temple, it is unnervingly quiet. Hornet cradles Ghost's mask in her hands, and goes to search for signs of life. She doesn't get far before seeing the deflated corpse of a vengefly. Further off, she sees a few motionless husks. Having seen enough, she returns to the temple.

Hornet sits down with the broken masks, and gets to work. She can't sew through shell, but she can glue it together. Her silk is sticky enough for that. It's not her best work, and there's a piece missing, but she puts Ghost's mask together again.

The Hollow Knight's broken shell is more of a challenge. Each piece is caked with residual infection and grime, built up from ages of entrapment. Some of the fragments chipped at the edges, so they don't fit together as seamlessly as Ghost's. The worst part of it all is how big the mask was in full. Still, she is willing to undertake this sadistic puzzle, if it means restoring the Hollow Knight's dignity. She meticulously fits together the biggest pieces before turning her attention to the little ones. Their shapes all start to blend together into identical lumps. Spending hours without nourishment, focused only on her task, dries out her silk and makes it painful to produce.

Her back aches from hunching over the masks for so long. She sits up to stretch, and the Hollow Knight's mask immediately falls apart.

Hornet freezes, one arm still raised above her head. The silk that was holding it all together peels uselessly. Her own material, mocking her for such poor craftsmanship.

Forgetting her discomfort, she hurriedly tries to push it back together, but it spills over her fingers and down the steps of the temple. Barely-audible pleas leave her as she scrambles to gather the pieces. Please, please, it took her so long just to get half of it—

But Hornet knows there's no putting it together again. Even Ghost's mask looks like a cruddy project she would've made as a hatchling. With a short cry, she slaps her palms against the stone. Hornet, protector of Hallownest, fierce hunter, seasoned knight, can't even put a couple of masks back together. The dead deserve better than this.

She didn't even get to say goodbye.

A large teardrop rolls down her shell and plops between her hands. More follow, and her shoulders begin to shake. The only sound in the Crossroads now is her high-pitched keening. The wound of being left behind hurts raw and tender every time, weighing so heavy it presses her forehead to the ground.

In Dirtmouth, her cries are interpreted as the whistle of the wind. To the west, the Grub Father hears the wail of an injured bug, and regrets that he is already weighed immobile by his own offspring. The Snail Shaman thinks it the howl of a ghost, and stays in his abode. The maggots, hidden in their hole in the wall, are too afraid to investigate.

But the cry draws the attention of two shadows that are making their way north. Ghost, unfamiliar with the sound, squeezes the Hollow Knight's hand. However, their older sibling remains undaunted and leads them forward. When they reach the Temple of the Black Egg, they both understand what's going on. Ghost's shade moves forward, drawn in by the tug of their broken mask. So it would seem, but they go right past it. Their focus is on the red-clad spider, huddled in the mouth of the temple.

Ghost didn't know they had a heart until they feel it wrench. They've heard Hornet cry once before, but it wasn't as unrestrained or desperate. A tendril drapes itself over Hornet's shoulder, and she flinches away with a gasp. Her eyes are wide and laden with tears. When she grabs her needle, Ghost withdraws from her vicinity, and tries to make themselves as small as possible. Hornet's chest heaves with the effort of concealing her sobs, though she's aware that's probably what drew them to her.

“You dare haunt me, shade?” she chokes. The needle shakes in her hand. The Hollow Knight's shade has entered, and is picking up the fragments of their mask. They squint at the half-dried silk, and peel it off. Ghost wafts meekly to their own shell, under fire from Hornet's curses.

“Don't touch it. I said, don't touch it!” Ghost picks up their shell and rubs their hand over the crack. It could have been worse. Forcing themselves back into is going to be uncomfortable, though.

“Go...Just leave me be. Put the mask back. I've lost enough.”

Oh, Hornet.

Ghost fits the shell over their head, and their body naturally conforms to it. Their body solidifies into soft chitin, and a fresh cloak falls across their shoulders. The crack in their mask seals itself; even the faintest line left by Hornet's handiwork will shortly fade. She hasn't noticed their reformation, nor the Hollow Knight's. Their resurrection is taking more time, owing to their weary constitution. While they are occupied with that, Ghost goes ahead and approaches Hornet.

Again she flinches when they touch her shoulder, and remains tensed when they pull her into their arms. She does not hug back, but slackens when they comfortingly stroke her.

“You can't have just...you can't. You can't do this. I thought you were...”

Hornet puts a hand over her eyes and shakes in a way that makes Ghost hold her tighter. The Hollow Knight limps up the steps, and drops to their knees before them. Their heavy landing turns Hornet's head, and for a moment she shrinks away. Ghost urges her towards them, however, and she reluctantly settles in the Hollow Knight's good arm. They cradle her against their chest, now empty from Infection but pocked with small craters and deep scars.

“Hornet...OK now?” Hollow asks. Their voice does not match their stature. In its neutral tone, it is soft and lilting, as if everything were a question. Hornet's expectations about Vessels have been defied so many times that she cannot even pretend to act surprised. She nods once, and even allows Ghost to dry her tears with their grubby cloak. They really need a bath. All three of them, actually.

The three of them sit like that until Hornet has composed herself. The Void at the bottom of the world stirs in content.

Ghost is the first to move. They stand up and point to the temple's exit, and Hollow nods in silent agreement. They shift Hornet from their arm to their back, and even carry her needle for her. Their nail, along with Ghost's, is probably still in the temple. They will retrieve it later.

Right now, though, they're going to the surface. The light blue of early morning streams from the top of the well, and Ghost runs ahead to climb up the chain. Hornet stares in wonder; she has only known the midnight blue of Hallownest's eternal night, and the dusty wastelands that stretch beyond. Hollow stumbles, prompting her to leap off their back.

“Here, let me...” She puts their arm around her shoulder, and leads them the rest of the way to the bottom of the well. With some assistance from Ghost, they manage to get Hollow all the way up to the surface. Above, the sky has almost finished its transition to morning. One half of the sky is speckled with stars, and the other is light with pale clouds. The sun is low, and their shadows stretch long across the dirt.

A strong but sweet-smelling wind surges from the east. It rustles their cloaks and dries the tears on Hornet's shell. When Ghost looks down, they notice something that makes them tug on their siblings' cloaks.

The beginnings of grass poke up from the earth.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know that between Hollow, Hornet, and Ghost, any birth order is possible? I personally headcanon that of the three, Hollow is the oldest, Ghost is the second-oldest, and Hornet is the youngest.


End file.
